edge of desire
by graceviolets
Summary: I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe/there I just said it/I'm scared you'll forget about me
1. 1 young and full of running

The dorm party was loud and crowded and Quinn Fabray did not know a single person there. She crisscrossed between drunken fights, rowdy shouting and couples kissing as she made her way down the hallway towards the exit. She had been stupid to come here on her own. She should have stayed in her own dorm room and watched the _Say Yes to the Dress_ -marathon with her utterly boring roommate Tina instead. This had been a mistake. She should go home and call Finn and take back everything she had said and…

She carefully stepped over a guy passed out on the linoleum floor and doing so, bumped into someone also trying to evade the unconscious teenager. The guy she bumped into was holding a drink and as they collided, it spilled all over her overly ironed dress and stained it light yellow. She jumped back in shock and looked down at chest. It was the dress her mother for her for her graduation party.

"Shit", the guy said. "I'm sorry."

She didn't look up to face him, didn't want to show him the tears in her eyes.

"It's just beer", he went on. "It'll wash out, I promise. Don't cry."

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, still trying to hide the fact that fat tears were building in her eyes and just waiting for her permission to drop down her cheeks.

"It's fine", she mumbled. "It was my fault."

"Just take it off and let it soak for a little while", he went on, as if he hadn't heard her. "Here, take this."

A white napkin appeared in front of her eyes that were still staring at the floor. She took it and pressed the starched paper to her face. The white turned black and orange by the touch. She crumbled the napkin up and held in her closed fist, not wanting to show him how much makeup she was wearing.

"I really am sorry", he said again and this time she looked up.

He was a guy. Brown hair. Tanned skin. Wearing a green t-shirt and jeans. Holding an empty beer bottle.

"It's fine", she repeated.

It _was_ fine. It wasn't like she was crying about a stain. It might be her graduation dress but it had been dumb of her to wear it to a college party. She looked like she had stepped out of a Macy's catalogue while everyone else was in sweats.

"Is it your favorite dress?" he asked.

"No", she replied. "It has just been a really bad week."  
"Ah," he smiled. "Freshman orientation, huh?"

"I guess."

"I hear that it's tough."

He tilted his head and looked more carefully at her. She looked down again, imagining make up smeared across her entire face.

"Should I get you another beer?" she asked. "To replace the one I made you spill?"  
"No, it's fine", he replied. "I was just leaving. Good thing you made me spill it or I wouldn't be fit to drive."

"Oh", she mumbled. "Good, I guess."

"Do you need a drive home?"

"I live just across campus."

The guy on the floor, the one who had caused all this, suddenly shifted and threw up on the floor, inches from Quinn new shoes.

"I'll drive you", the guy said. "I need some good karma after tonight."

"Okay", she said stupidly, desperately wanting to get away from this party and these people and the mess on the floor.

"I parked just outside, come on."

…

He drove a pickup truck. Like it was the fifties. Or the south. It wasn't. It was 2015 in Ohio. At least it looked clean. Quinn hated riding in dirty cars.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Miller House", she said. "Do you know it?"  
"Yeah", he said, clenching his jaw. "I do. We will have you home in no time."

He drove slowly on the narrow campus roads and stopped completely when a gang of drunken girls stumbled on the sidewalk outside one of the fraternity houses. He patiently waited until they all had made it across the street while his fingers tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel.

"What's been so tough about the first week?" he asked.

"Just… stuff", she replied.

"Not what you expected? College, I mean?"

"I don't know. I just… thought it would be more fun."

He laughed at that.

"When is school ever fun?"

His tone was kind but she felt humiliated anyway. Like a naïve, little freshman. He was probably a junior or a senior. Blasé about the college life. Laughed at girls like her.

"Not school", she said and tried again. "I guess I just had bad luck with my roommate."

"Oh, that's bad."

"I'm sure it will be fine."

"What is she like? Mean? Old? Kleptomaniac?"

"She's just… boring. Very religious. Very dedicated to her studies. Only wears grey."

He laughed again. This time she smiled too. It was the first time all week. It was nice to hear another person laugh at something she had said."Here we are", he said, pulling over outside Miller House. "You have your keycard and everything?"  
"Yes", she replied. "Thank you."

"Sure."

She unbelted her seatbelt and slipped out through the car door and down onto the ground.

"Thank you again", she said and he waved at her.

"I hope it gets better", he told her.

"Me too."

It wasn't until she was punching in her code and unlocking the door that she realized that she had forgotten to ask for his name.

…

She was still thinking of him as she walked up the stairs and almost, again, tripped over someone on the floor. This time it was a girl. A crying girl. No, a weeping girl. She was tiny with long, blackish hair and was wearing a red dress. Quinn wanted to step over her, just like she had the guy at the party, but she couldn't. It wouldn't have been right.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

The girl looked up at her and the sadness in eyes was replaced by anger.

"Leave me alone", she growled.

"You shouldn't sit on the cold floor", Quinn said.

"Thanks for the tip."

But the anger was giving away for sadness again and the girl sobbed into her bare hands. Quinn crouched down next to her. The stone stair was ice cold and almost burned against her bare thighs.

"Are you okay?" she asked, because what else was there to ask?

"No", the girl whispered. "No."

"Are you homesick?"  
Tina was homesick all the time. Quinn was too, even if she wasn't as vocal about it.

"No", the girl replied. "I wish."

Quinn didn't know what else to ask. She carefully reached out and patted the girl's arm. The girl squirmed away, as if Quinn was contagious. She sighed. If the girl didn't want help… She stood up again and examined the beer stain on her chest in the bright staircase light. It would probably need a good soak.

"My boyfriend broke up with me", the girl mumbled.

"Tonight? I'm so sorry."

"No, not tonight. But… it's a long story. I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay", Quinn said. "But you shouldn't stay here. You'll get a urinary infection."

"My roommate is crazy."

"So is mine but I think she's still up watching TLC."

"Okay", the girl said. "I don't want to be alone anyway."

Quinn extended her hand again and the girl let her pull her to her feet. She looked utterly disheveled.

"I'm Quinn", Quinn said, not wanting to forget to tell a second person that tonight.

"I'm Santana", the girl said. "And I'm not usually this way.

…

No, Santana was usually not that way. After crying her way all the way through _Masterchef Australia,_ she blew her nose and began to talk. And never stopped. She talked about everything. Her psychotic roommate, all the classes she hated, the movies she loved and the books she hadn't bought yet for classes she already hated. Quinn loved it. She loved being talked at. Tina put headphones in and ignored them. They stayed up late, on the floor of Tina and Quinn's dorm room and talked. Quinn felt like she had been silent for decades. She had so much she needed to stay, to vent, for someone to hear.

"You're the first normal person I have met here", Santana said around 3 am.

"You're the second sane person I met", Quinn said.

"Who was the first one?"

"The guy who spilled beer on me."

"Sounds like a stellar guy."

"Do you want to talk about your boyfriend?" Quinn asked.

"No", Santana said.

"You can, you know.

"I don't want to."

"Okay."

They fell asleep around four in the morning, Quinn in her bed and Santana on the soft rug on the floor. Tina got up at six to study and woke them up.

"Who gets up at six on a Sunday?" Santana snarled.

"I need to leave for church at eight", Tina snapped back.

Quinn rolled over in her bed and went back to sleep. For the first time in a week, she didn't dare waking up again.

…

Santana woke up hesitant and distant and Quinn could tell. They ate breakfast together in silence, staring down in their bowls of cereal and chewing on fresh fruit. It felt like a morning after. As if everything they had done last night had been a mistake.

"I'm not usually like that", Santana finally said, again.

"Okay", Quinn replied.

"I'm not the kind of girl to cry over a guy."

"Oh. Okay."

"Are you?"

The question sounded mildly accusatory. Quinn felt herself scowl. She hadn't scowled at anyone in a week. She had in pleasant-mood ever since her mother dropped her off on campus.

"What if I am?" she retorted.

Santana raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows at the tone of Quinn's voice.

"You can be anyone you want."

"Wow, thank you."

Santana finally smiled. Her eyes twinkled the cold and bright lighting of the cafeteria. She raised her cup of coffee and clinked it against Quinn's.

"You're not very nice, are you?" she asked.

"Why would you say that?"

Santana kept smiling. She seemed to finally let her shoulders drop and exhale. Quinn kept on scowling. It felt nice not being polite for a minute.

"I was afraid you might be a nice girl", Santana said. "Nice girls bore me."  
"I _am_ a nice person", Quinn argued.

"You might be nice in a 'is good to your mom' and 'goes to church' kind of way", Santana went on. "But you're a heartbreaker, aren't you?"

"I have a boyfriend", she said, as if that answered the question.

She sipped her coffee in silence without breaking eye contact with the girl on the other side of the table.

"I'm not the kind of girl who gets heartbroken either", Santana said. "Well, not before now."

"Why did you break up with him?"

"I don't want to talk about him", Santana said. "Never again. I'm going to forget him. I'm going to find somebody else. No, five somebody elses. At least."

"Fine", Quinn said.

She thought of Finn. Back in Lima, Ohio. What was he doing? Did he miss her?

"If I wasn't good enough for him, I'm too good for him", Santana said, sounding like _Cosmo._

Quinn made a mental note to call Finn when she was done with classes for the day.

…

He sounded just like he always did. Happy. Steady. He asked about classes. About her roommate. About the party. ("That was the dress your mother bought you for graduation"). About Santana. She told him. He laughed at all the right places. He asked for more details. When she was all out of words, he sighed in longing.

"I can't believe you're not coming home until November."

"I know."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"Maybe I can come up and visit you?"  
"Yes", she said. "Please do."

But he never would. It was a four-hour drive. He worked Monday through Friday at the auto shop and took weekend classes at the community college. He didn't have the time or money to drive to see her. And where would he sleep? You weren't allowed to host guests overnight, definitely not male ones.

"The guys say hi", he said.

"Say hi back", she said back.

"I'm sure it will work out, with your roommate and the dress and all."

"Yes", she said and has to remind herself to ask him questions back. "I hope so. What's going on back home?"

"Nothing, really", he replied and she believed him.

"How are classes?"  
"Slow", he said. "In this pace, I'll have a degree in fifty years."

"You're saving up for school", she argued. "This is just for the meantime. Getting some credits."

"Sure."

For the first time, he sounded unhappy. She hated that. It made her feel guilty. For leaving him behind. For actually enjoying college. It had been easier that first week when they had both been unhappy.

"I'm counting down the days to Thanksgiving", she said, not knowing if it was true or not.

"Me too", he said, and she could hear the honesty in his voice. "I love you."

"Love you too."

They hung up. Quinn looked around her tiny dorm room. Tina was watching _Sister Wives._ She could join her. Or…

"I'm going over to Santana's", she announced.

Tina didn't look away from the TV.

"Okay."

Quinn didn't even reach Santana's door before she saw her. She was coming towards her in the hallway, holding her purse.

"I'm going over to Connor House", she called. "Wanna come?"  
"Now? It's nine already?"

"Luca says that he can sneak us in."

Quinn hesitated. She didn't want to get into trouble. But she didn't want to watch yet another TLC show with Tina.

"Okay", she said. "Let me grab my keycard."

…

Quinn wasn't used to having a friend. No, that wasn't true. She had loads of friends back home; girls that she had grown up next to, literally, with their backyards facing each other. She had been a cheerleader, a ballet dancer, and a part of Christian congregation. But now, it felt like it, perhaps, she had never really liked any of them. Rachel only spoke about things Quinn didn't care about and always fought her Finn. Brittany was sweet but dumb and uninteresting. And Kitty had always wanted to _be_ Quinn, rather than be her friend.

It was different with Santana. They almost never agreed about anything but Quinn had never felt so similar to another person before. Over the next couple of weeks, they spent more time together than Quinn ever had with a friend. They ate every meal together, studied next to each other in library and Santana even changed some of her classes to match Quinn's schedule. They were constantly either bickering or quiet. And for the first time, Quinn felt like she didn't have all the power in a relationship and it was oddly thrilling. Kitty had never stood up to her. No one had. Not even Finn. Santana did nothing but stand up to her.

"Why are you fighting me over this?" Quinn asked her one night when Santana was insisting that Ryan Gosling was ugly. "Everyone knows that you are wrong."

"I'm fighting you, Quinn Fabray", Santana said. "Because I can tell that no one ever has before."

"That's not true", Quinn argued.

"You're too pretty and too spoiled for your own good."

"You're full of yourself."  
They finished watching _Crazy, Stupid Love_ in silence. When the credits began to roll, Santana playfully punched Quinn's shoulder.

"At least you and I will never fight over a guy."

"I have a boyfriend"  
"You're a Gosling kind of girl. And I'm… more of a Pablo Escobar kind of girl."  
"Who is that?"  
Santana snickered.

"Look him up."

Quinn did later. He was a Colombian drug dealer. And not that handsome. She never figured out if Santana was fucking with her or not.

"Why do you spend time with Santana?" Quinn's roommate Tina asked one night. "All you do is fight."

"It's not _all_ we do", Quinn protested.

"You don't even seem to like each other."

"It's… just the way we talk."

Tina didn't understand. She hated Santana and everything she stood for. Quinn couldn't exactly blame her; Santana wasn't very kind to the timid Tina. Santana would tease her about her clothes, her faith and her complete lack of friends. Quinn didn't really like Tina either but had defended her more times than she could remember by now. And it was only October.

"Does she always have to come here?" Tina asked. "Why can't she watch a movie in her own room?"

"Her roommate is crazy."

Tina looked suspicious.

"Crazy, how?"

Quinn shrugged. She didn't now. Santana only ever said that Myra, her roommate, was "crazy". No details. Quinn had never asked.

"I'm having a study session tonight", Tina went on. "Could you and Santana not be here then?"  
Quinn nodded.

"We're going out anyway."

"And please don't turn on the lights when you get home."

"That's not me, it's…"

"Santana, I know. I'm just saying."

Quinn smiled apologetically.

…

As they were on their way to the frat party that Santana had invited them to, Quinn brought it up again.

"Do you have to be so mean to Tina?"

"I'm not _mean_ to her", Santana retorted.

"You are."

"I'm just telling her the hard truths."

"Whatever. Just be nicer, okay?"  
Santana rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She was only wearing a mini dress with spaghetti straps, despite the cold weather. At least Quinn was wearing a coat over her clothes.

"Who did you dress up for tonight?" Quinn asked.

Santana had forced her to change out of one of her skater dresses and into a tight skirt and top. She didn't feel like herself at all. The top kept riding up and she kept fighting to keep it down. She had to unbutton the coat to pull on it after every step.

"No one", Santana replied, stopping to fix Quinn's top for the eighth or ninth time. "Stop fidgeting with it."

"It keeps riding up."  
"Who cares? What's so wrong about showing a little skin?"

"I'm pale."  
"So what? No guy cares about your skin tone."

"Easy for you to say."

Santana's golden skin seemed to keep its glow all through autumn while Quinn felt almost see-through by now. She felt more secure in the cute dresses her mother had bought her at Anthropology.

"Who is the guy?" Quinn asked again.

"Julian", Santana replied. "He's in our Biology class. Dark hair? Tall? Sits in the back?"

Quinn tried to remember if she had ever noticed a dark haired Julian sitting behind her as she were dissecting frogs. No. No recollection.

"When did you talk to him?"  
"After class. You went to the bathroom, remember? His friend, Kyle, went too. Julian and I were left outside. Kyle's going to b there too. He's kinda cute too. Blonde, more your type."

"I have a boyfriend."

"Whatever."

"My boyfriend's not blonde."

"Whatever."

"No, not _whatever_."

Santana ignored her.

"What happened to Luca?" Quinn asked.

"What do you mean?"  
"Weren't you seeing him?"

"We weren't _married_ , Q."

"No, I know but…"

"I'm having fun. You should try it."

It was Quinn's time to ignore her.

Julian looked exactly like Santana's type. He smoked a joint and played the guitar at the same time. Santana sang along with the song. Quinn would have never had dared to sing in front of thirty frat guys in their twenties. She sat on the couch, stiff as a board, drinking beer through a straw. Kyle, who apparently was also in her Biology class even though she could swear on the fact that she hdn never seen him before, tried to hit on her.

"So, where are you from?" he asked for the third time.

(He was very drunk.)

"Ohio", she said. "And you're from Tulsa."

"How did you know?" he giggled.

He wasn't her type. Quinn had showed Santana pictures of Finn and Kyle looked like his complete opposite. Short, blonde and wiry. Not that she cared what he looked like. She had already had her Finn.

"You told me. Three times."  
He draped her arm around her and she swiftly moved away. His arm fell limply against the backrest of the sofa. She deeply wanted to enjoy herself, to be more like Santana, but she couldn't. She hated the lull of stoned guys talking about "deep" things. She hated the crappy rap metal that was playing in the background. She hated feeling out of place when Santana could fit in anywhere.

"Santana told me that you like me", Kyle suddenly said with the kind of candor that only self-entitled guys could muster.

"Well, I have a boyfriend."

"Is he here?"  
"No."

"Where is he?"  
"Ohio."

"Then I don't think he would know if you let me kiss you…"

She got to her feet. Santana was half-draped over Luca's chest as they kissed slowly, both completely stoned. Quinn sighed, texted Santana that she was leaving and headed for the door. She thought of the night, mere weeks ago, when someone had spilled beer on her shirt and then driven her home. She wouldn't mind if someone spilled something on this horrible top. And she would really like a ride home. She called Finn, just to have someone to talk to as she walked across campus alone. He didn't pick up. He was probably already asleep. Quinn hoped that Santana would get over her ex soon. She was sick of leaving parties alone.

…

When she arrived back at their building, a figure was leaning against the main door. It was a big figure, muscular and male and Quinn back up before he could see her. In the light from the cigarette he was smoking, she could see that he had headphones in. She hovered a few feet away from him, in the darkness, for a few minutes, hoping that he would go away. He didn't. She was freezing cold and that damn top of hers wasn't exactly doing anything to keep her warm. Finally, she was sick of it, reached for her keys and the small canister of pepper spray that her mother had given her.

"Excuse me", she said loudly as she approached the man.

He didn't hear her and leaned heavily against the door she wanted to open.

"Excuse me", she repeated, almost yelling now.

The man straightened up and pulled out the headphones.

"Sorry", he said. "I didn't hear you."  
Standing right in front of him, she recognized him vaguely. Strong jaw. Shortly cropped hair. Wide shoulders. Maybe he was boyfriend to one of the girls in the dorms. She might have seen him in a photo.

"I can't let you in", she said. "It's against policy."

"Don't you remember me?"

"Sorry?"

She didn't even pretend to sound polite. She had heard the pickup line too many times to fall for it yet another time.

"I drove you here. First week of classes. After that terrible party, do you remember?"

She studied his face closer. Yes. It was him. She could tell now.

"You spilled beer on me", she said.

"Hope the dress recovered."

"It did."

"Good."

"I still can't let you in."

He pretended to slump his shoulders in disappointment.

"I promise I'm not a psycho killer. I just want to see my friend. She called me earlier but now she won't answer her phone."

"You're _friend_ might be asleep already."  
"Maybe. I just want to see if she's okay."

He seemed like a nice guy. He had driven her home that one time, without even flirting with her. And he didn't seem like a liar.

"Please", he begged. "I've been waiting for an hour."  
She caved. It was something about his face.

"Okay", she said and unlocked the door with her keycard.

They walked up the stairs together. He had to stop at every floor to check the names of the people living there. He clearly hadn't been here before.

"Are you going to find your way?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure. Just haven't been here in awhile. Can't remember what floor."

"Okay, let me help you."  
"No", he said, giving her a half-smile. "You've done enough. Thank you. I am eternally grateful."

"No problem."  
He held out his hand her. It looked big and gruff in the pale light from the staircase lights. She shook it.

"I'm Puck", he said. "You can call me Puck."

"I'm Quinn", she said.

"Nice to meet you again, Quinn."

…

That could have been it but minutes later, when Quinn was emerging from the bathroom with her toilet bag in her arms, she saw him again. He was sitting outside her room, listening to music again. She wondered if she was to be afraid of him now. He could probably wrestle her to the floor without straining a muscle.

"Hello", she said uncertainly, missing her pepper spray just a little bit.

He looked up at her. Light eyes. No, dark eyes. No, something in between.

"Hi", he said. "Sorry. She wasn't here. I think she's out."

"Okay", she replied slowly.

"I'll just wait for her inside, if that's okay."

"Inside my room?"

"Inside the building."  
"Oh, that's fine."

He stayed on the floor and she stayed standing, watching him. The building was so quiet. Everyone was asleep or out getting laid like Santana. It seemed like they were the only ones there. Except Quinn knew that Tina was asleep on the other side of that door.

"You're not waiting for Tina, are you?"  
"Tina?"  
"She's my roommate."  
"No, I'm not looking for Tina", he said. "I just wanted to tell you that I am waiting inside."  
"The building?"

"Yeah."  
"Okay."

She contemplated stepping over him, going into her room and just sleeping. He was not her problem. He was _someone's_ problem all right with that face and those clothes and the cigarette he had smoked outside. But not hers.

"You can't wait here", she sighed. "Someone's going to see you and report it. You'll get me in trouble."

"Oh. Right."

"My roommate is asleep so you can't hide in my room."  
"I get it. I'm an inconvenience."

She sighed again, heavily and he looked guilty for the first time. He stood up and pulled his leatherjacket closed over his chest. Puppy dog eyes. Yes, clearly, he had the potential of being many girls' problem.

"I'll just wait outside."  
"Can't you just go home? She'll call you in the morning."

"She won't. And she was crying…"

"Okay. Let's wait then. I'll stay. If someone finds up, we'll come up with something. Just let me get some blankets."

She sneaked inside to get a blanket and her own duvet from her bed. She gave Puck the blanket and watched him pull it closely around him. He was a handsome guy. Not in her type. Too bad boy. Too much of muscle and black clothing and piercing eyes. For the first time, she felt unconscious about the fact that she had already washed all her makeup off and was wearing sweats. Not that it mattered. He was here to see someone else. And she had Finn.

"Thanks", he said.

"Sure."

…

They had nothing to talk about and still the hours seemed to pass so quickly. They were the same age (she never would have guessed), he worked in construction and played the guitar. He lent her one of his headphones and played her all kinds of music she had never heard before.

"Bob Dylan is the ultimate musician", he said.

"I believe you", she replied, because it was now four in the morning and she was somewhat delirious.

Sometimes she nodded off and woke up at few minutes later with him sitting quietly next to her. Sometimes, often when they were listening to long, slow songs, he just his eyes too. They were terrible at watching out for someone who might report them.

"What's your major, Quinn?" he asked around five.

"Undecided."  
"Huh."

"What's wrong with that?"  
"Nothing. I just pegged for the pre-law kind of person."  
"Why?" she asked.

"Something about the hair and the dress", he said, which explained nothing.

"I'm not even wearing a dress."

"No, that white dress. High necked and below the knee and almost ruined by beer."  
She frowned at him. He was making fun of her. She hated being made fun of.

"Don't get mad", he pleaded. "I'm sure you got an impression of me. Let me guess? Delinquent? James Dean complex? Daddy issues."

She had to laugh at it.

"What about you says 'daddy issues'?"

"Maybe just my behavior."  
"I don't know you well enough for that yet."

"I guess not."  
"So, what was it? What did you think of me?"

"I think I was too caught up with my own drama to even notice you much", she said, kind of honestly.

"Ouch."  
She was so tired now. Sleepy. And his shoulder was broad and it would be so nice to lean her head against it. Just for a little while. Because he was evidently a nice guy and belonged to one of the other girls and she had Finn.

"You're falling asleep", he noted. "I'm sorry I kept you up."

"It's fine", she mumbled.

"I should go. She's clearly not coming back tonight."  
"Sorry."  
"No", he said, half-smiling. "It's not like that. I'm not upset."

He helped her to her feet and handed her the blanket. His body heat had warmed it up and she held up against her face to feel it.

"Thank you", he said. "For letting me in."

"Sure."

She wondered if he was going to hug. Maybe even try to kiss her. Ask for her number? She didn't want to end their night like that. She didn't want him to be another Kyle.

"Good night", he just said.

"Good night", she said back.  
She watched him leave before going into her room and collapsing on her bed.

"Where you all night?" Tina accusingly asked her from the other side of the room. "I was worried."

"I was just right outside the door."

"What?"  
"Good night, Tina."

…


	2. 2 tell me where is that taking me?

"You could at least try", Santana whined the morning after over breakfast.

"I did try", Quinn said.

Santana was hung over and testy. Quinn was exhausted and starving. Santana was still wearing her mini dress with the spaghetti straps constantly sliding down her shoulders.

"Kyle said that you blew him off after five minutes", Santana said.

Quinn could barely remember Kyle. Or the party at all. All the parties were always the same. Sitting on the hallway floor with a stranger had at least been something different.

"I was there at least two hours. And he kept flirting with me", she replied.

"Can you blame him?"

"No, I blame you! You were the one who told him I liked him. Santana, I had never even noticed him before!"

Santana grinned at this. She had lipstick on her teeth. Quinn wasn't going to tell her. As some kind of punishment.

"Aren't you going to ask me how it went with Julian?"

"Does it matter?"  
Santana frowned. She had makeup under eyes as well as the lipstick on her teeth. Quinn would never have gone to breakfast like that. She would at least have washed her face.

"What do you mean?" Santana snapped.

"You're not going to see him again, are you?"

Santana let her spoon slip into her bowl of cereal. Quinn looked away from her. She didn't like fighting with Santana. She didn't really like fighting at all.

"Don't lecture me on promiscuity", Santana said, slowly.

"I'm not", Quinn said, even if she wasn't really sure that was true. "I'm just saying, what is the point of me remembering all these guys when you don't?"

"Maybe because you're my friend."

"Well, then maybe you could ask me about my boyfriend once in a while."

"Why should I? Nothing has changed with him, right? He still lives in that little town, still has a job, still loves you unconditionally. What more could you say?"

Quinn bit her lip. She hated fighting. Hated it. Mostly because she was easily hurt. Vulnerable. Especially by the way Santana spoke about Finn.

"Fine", she said curtly.

"Fine", Santana said back.

They ate in silence until Luca sat down next to them at the table. He leaned over to kiss Santana on the cheek and Santana let him.

"I missed you last night", he said in a low voice. "Where were you? I texted you."

"I was with Quinn", Santana lied quickly. "We were just watching TV and hanging out. Right, Quinn?"

"Right", Quinn agreed meekly. " _Sister Wives._ Kody and Meri fought over Robin again."

"What?" Luca asked but no one explained it to him.

…

Quinn didn't tell Santana about Puck. It wasn't a secret. And she hadn't done anything wrong. (Well, technically, she had by letting him inside the building, but at least not emotionally.) But she knew that Santana would take it as an opportunity to rag on Finn in some way and Quinn didn't want that. So, she kept it to herself. Sometimes she thought that it might have been a dream, all of it. No one else had seen him. He had appeared out of thin air, in the middle of the night. She had been drinking. Maybe he was some kind of delusion; a dark stranger who smelled faintly of cigarette-smoke and wore a leather jacket. It sounded cliché enough to be a fantasy. A naïve and childish fantasy. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to even care about. But she began to call Finn every night, more often than she ever had. She asked him millions of questions about his life. Laughed at all his jokes. Told him that she loved him. Over and over and over again until he jokingly asked her what she was hiding. She could have told him then but she didn't.

…

Santana kept serial dating but Quinn began to blow her off to stay in bed and talk to Finn.

"I don't want to go by myself", Santana complained one night in November.

"You won't be going by yourself", Quinn countered. "You're going to see Luca, right?"  
"No, Paul."  
"Paul?"  
"The athlete."  
Quinn couldn't remember who Paul was but didn't ask. It was not like it mattered. Santana would forget him in a week.

"You can have phone sex with Finn tomorrow", Santana said.

"We're not… It doesn't matter", Quinn sighed, covering her phone's speaker with her hand. "I don't want to go out tonight. Okay?"

"No, not okay. This is the last weekend before Thanksgiving. _Everyone_ is going out today, Quinn."

"Not everyone", Quinn argued. "I'm not. Tina's not."

Tina looked up from the book she was reading. She looked mildly disgusted, as she always did when viewing Santana's going out-outfits.

"Don't compare yourself to her", Santana said with equal amounts of disgust.

"I have to study", Quinn lied, not sure why. "Biology."

"Fine. Suit yourself."  
Santana slammed the door shut behind her. Tina rolled her eyes before plugging her headphones in to give Quinn some privacy with Finn. (Or more likely, she didn't want to hear their conversation.)

"Sorry", Quinn said. "Santana's in a mood."

"Isn't she always?"

"No, not always."

"So, you're set for next weekend?" he asked. "I'm picking you up in Columbus at five, right?"

"Five fifty-five", she corrected him. "And yes, all set."

"I can't wait to see you."

"Me too", she said. "I can't believe that I haven't been home in almost three months."

"I can't either", he sighed. "There's so much I want to talk to you about."

She wrinkled her forehead. They had been on the phone almost every day for the last two weeks.

"You can tell me now", she said.

"Nah, it's more of a face to face thing", he said.

"Is it serious?"  
"Don't worry", he said and sounded as easy-going and joyful as he always did. "No one has died."

She laughed at that despite the fact that it wasn't very funny. Her laugh sounded fake and weird and she stopped before he had a chance to notice.

"Only five days until I see you", he said, seamlessly changing the subject.

"Only five days", she said, noticing his switch.

What did he want to say that he couldn't say on the phone? Was something wrong? Did he want to break up? No. Never. It must be something else.

"You want me to make a sign with your name on it?"

"It's the bus station, Finn", she said. "Not the airport. I think I'll find you."

"Oh. Okay."

"Sorry. I'm just… I would love a sign", she lied.

If he didn't want to break up with her, what else could there be?

"I love you, Quinn", he said, empathizing every word as if they meant something extra to him. "I miss you."

"And I love you", she said.

And then she knew, he was going to propose to her.

…

She had fallen asleep, finally, after twisting and turning for hours, when Santana began knocking on the door. Tina groaned something that her religious upbringing wouldn't condone and Quinn pulled a blanket around her to let a drunken Santana in.

"I'm fucking done", she almost yelled.

Quinn had to hush her before closing the door behind them. Tina, who had realized that none of them would be able to sleep right now, turned on the lights. Santana's makeup was smeared and her face was blotchy but Quinn wasn't sure if she was crying or not. She kneeled down on the floor, on the soft rug she had once slept, and covered her face in her hands.

"Calm down", Quinn whispered. "What happened?"

She was thinking rape. Assault. Someone might have drugged her. Quinn should have checked up that guy. What was his name? She couldn't even remember.

"I'm done", Santana groaned or half-screamed. "I'm done with this."

"Then be quiet", Tina quipped from her bed.

"Done with what?" Quinn asked.

"Feeling like this."

"Drunk?"  
"No. Unhappy."

 _Unhappy_? Since when was Santana unhappy? Quinn bit her lip.

"Okay", Quinn said softly. "Are you okay? I mean psychically?"

"I'm done feeling like this", Santana went on, ignoring Quinn's question. "I've tried _so hard_ for months to get over him. And I can't. It's impossible."

The ex-boyfriend. Crying on the stairs. The only other time Santana had acted vulnerable in front of her. Damn him. Quinn hated him. Whoever he was.  
"Santana-", Quinn began but was interrupted by Santana actually beginning to cry.

It was a drunk girl-cry. Hysterical and blubbering and messy. Quinn tried to dry her off as much as she could. Tina went to vending machine and brought Santana saltines, soda and coffee. Santana almost thanked her.

"Did you talk to him?" Quinn asked.

"I called but he didn't answer. As usual. He's _giving me space_."

"Okay."

"I'm done with feeling like a fucking depressed little girl", Santana said as she wiped most of the tears and all of the makeup off her face.

"Good", Quinn said meekly.

"Thank god", Tina added.

"Erase his number. Unfriend him on Facebook. Cut him out of your life", Quinn suggested.

"No", Santana replied, staring fiercely into Quinn's eyes. "I'm going to get him back."

…

They finally fell asleep, all three of them, as the sun rose in the distance. And they were awoken a few hours later by Santana's phone. It rang and rang and rang until Tina got up, found the phone on the floor and pressed it into Santana's hand.

"Answer it", she barked but Santana didn't.

She held it limply in her right hand and stared at the display. The ringtone was high-pitched and harsh in Quinn's newly woken ears.

"It's him", Santana finally said.

"Don't answer it", Quinn said.

But she did. She cleared her throat and sat up and acted convincingly like herself.

"Hello", she said, casually. "No, I was drunk. Sorry. Must have drunk dialed you."

She was an actress, Quinn thought, there was no other way to look at it. Santana's face was red and blotchy. Her clothes were wrinkled and barely on her body at all but she sounded confident, calm and blasé.

"No. I don't think so. Are you? Oh. Driving?"

Quinn pretended not to listen as she sat up in bed and reached for her own phone. Finn had sent her a picture of his dog. She replied something accompanied by many heart emojis.

"Yeah, let's talk about it later this week", Santana said to her ex-boyfriend. "Sorry for calling you. Bad habit."

They hung up but Santana didn't go back to being weak. She stood and seemed to brush away last night's events with a wave of her hand.

"It has begun", she said.

"What has begun?"

"He asked me if I wanted a ride back home for Thanksgiving."  
"And you said yes?"

"I said that I would think about it", Santana replied.

Tina groaned something from her side of the room.

"What was that?" Santana snapped irritated. "You got a problem?"

"Come on, Santana", Quinn begged. "She bought you saltines. Leave her alone."  
"I'm applying to change rooms next year", Tina said, glaring at the both of them. "I'm sick of never sleeping through the night."

" _Never_?" Santana asked. "Never? It happened once."

"Twice", Tina groaned. "Twice in like no time at all."

"Just leave it", Quinn said quickly. "Let's go to breakfast."

Santana sent one more glaring look towards Tina before nodding.

"Yeah, let's go."

"You don't want to change? Or wash your face?"

Now Santana was glaring at her.

"Is there something wrong with the way I look?"

"No…" Quinn said. "I just… fine. Let's go."

Santana picked up a blanket from the edge of Quinn's bed and threw it over her shoulders. The same blanket that Puck had worn that night. Quinn wondered if Santana would smell the fading scent of him on it. Probably not. It wasn't like Quinn had noticed it either.

…

At breakfast, Santana plotted how to get her boyfriend back. She had gone from desperate and depressed to gleeful and excited in less than ten hours. It was giving Quinn a headache. Or maybe that was just the lack of sleep.

"I'm done with begging", Santana said. "This time, he is going to be the one to ask me. And I might say no the first time, just to fuck with him a little."

"Don't you want to be with him?" Quinn asked, only half-listening as she scrolled through her Facebook feed.

A couple from her homeroom class in High School was getting married on Thanksgiving. The picture of their smiling, stupid faces blared Quinn in the face. They weren't even suited for each other. She could do better and he was never doing enough.

"It's about power", Santana replied. "I want him but he can't know just how much."

"Sounds exhausting."

"Every relationship is a power struggle, Q."

"Mine isn't."

"Of course it is. You have all the power."  
"Me? No, I don't."

"Finn's clearly much more in love with you than you are with him."

"Santana, you have never even seen us together."

"I just know."

Quinn thought of the proposal. Alleged proposal. Assumed proposal. He might not ask. But she knew that he would. He would have saved up enough money to buy a ring by now. All those extra shifts he had been taking lately. It all made sense. _But what was she supposed to say?_

"Look", Quinn said, holding up her phone to Santana who sat across from her. "These two are getting married next weekend."  
"Why?" Santana scoffed, grabbing the phone and zooming on the guy's pimply face.

"I guess they love each other."

"She knocked up?"  
"I don't think so."

Quinn reached for the phone but Santana held it out of her reach and scoffed again.

"She's out of his league."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"And he looks fourteen", Santana went on. "What is the deal with that shirt?"

"I think Finn is going to ask me to marry him", Quinn said.

Santana raised her eyebrows and lowered Quinn's phone. She shook her head in something that might have been misbelief but also could have been disgust.

"No", she said.

"Yes, I think so."

"But you're going to say no, right?"  
"I don't know. Should I?"

"Quinn, you're eighteen."

"A lot of people get married at eighteen."

"Yeah, like pimple face and band girl here", Santana said gesturing to Quinn's phone. "Those who have no other options."

"Being married to Finn wouldn't take any options away from me."

"Yes, it would, the opportunity to find someone better."

"Very funny."

"No", Santana said. "Very true."

Quinn took her phone back, locked it and shoved it into her pocket. It had been a bad idea to tell Santana this. The worst. Horrible.

"Be realistic, Quinn", Santana said. "What would you do? Drop out and have his babies? What about your dream of doing something with your undeclared major?"

"I would still go to college."

"You would be married but let your parent pay for your school?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And what would he do?"

"He could go here too."

"On what money?"

"He could save up."

" _And_ pay for your wedding? Or are mommy and daddy paying for that too?"  
Santana tone was unkind and snarky and it made Quinn more defensive than usual. She stared away from her.

"Why do you have to be so mean?" she croaked.

"I'm not", Santana replied. "I'm being realistic."

"I'm not being mean about your situation. I'm not saying that if your ex wanted to be with you, he wouldn't have broken up with you in the first place."

Santana said nothing and since Quinn was looking away, she didn't know if Santana looked angry or sad.

"It's not the same", Santana finally said. "I love him. He loves me."

"I love Finn. He loves me."  
They sat in silence some more time. Santana finished her coffee. Quinn went to refill her glass of juice. The cafeteria was full to the brim with people discussing last night in loud voices. It actually seemed as if everyone had been out last night, except Tina and Quinn.

"You done?" Santana asked when all the glasses were empty and the plates clean.

"Yes", Quinn said.

"Let's never talk about important things over breakfast again."

"Okay."

"And just… agree to disagree."

"Fine", Quinn said.

…

The last week before Thanksgiving was one of the worst of the term. Both Santana and Quinn was fidgety, nervous and out of focus. Quinn brought her history book to philosophy on Tuesday and despite being yelled at by the professor, did the reverse thing on Wednesday. She talked to Finn every night, searching in his voice for what he would ask her, and more importantly, what she was to respond.

"This town misses you", he told her. "I can feel it."

"You're crazy", she said.

"I'm not. I swear I'm not. The trees and the houses and the streets, they all want you back."

"I'm coming", she promised.

Santana was even worse than Quinn. She asked everyone she met in the dorm to help her decide what outfit to wear on the car ride home. Most of the girls just gaped at her since she had never talked to them before and because no one else would consider sitting a car for four hours in a mini dress.

"I want to make his jaw drop", Santana explained to Carrie, one of the girls who always occupied the bathroom.

"That dress will do that", Carrie replied.

"But I don't want to look as if I'm trying", Santana went on.

"Then you'll far off."

Quinn was of no help to her. She couldn't focus on more than one problem at a time. In the end, the last evening before going home, they sat next to each other in Quinn's room and watched a Top Model rerun in silence.

"Are you two fighting?" Tina said, maybe hopefully.

"No", they both replied.

"You're ignoring each other."

"We… just have a lot on our minds", Quinn explained.

Santana was quiet. She didn't reply with some sarcastic comment directed to Tina. All she was mechanically open her mouth and stuff it full with popcorn. She barely finished chewing before stuffing more in there. Quinn took the bowl away from her.

"I'm doing you a favor", she said when Santana groaned.

"I'm a stress eater."

"I can tell."

"Do you really think he doesn't want me?" Santana asked, once again showing a small part of her soft underbelly.

Quinn regretted her harsh words during their fight at breakfast.

"I don't know him. Or you together. Or your history."

"Right."

They kept watching. The token black girl was eliminated and the remaining white girls cried in unison. Quinn wondered if Finn would actually show up with a sign with her name on it. She hoped not. Or would it say _will you marry me_? Was she supposed to say yes in front of all those people in the bus station?

"I chose this school because of him", Santana suddenly said.

"The boyfriend?"

"Yes. His dad lives here, in this town. His plan was always to move here after graduation and work with him. So, I applied to this college. I got accepted. And then he broke up with me."

"I'm sorry."

"I could have moved to Florida or California or Hawaii but I chose this little school and this little town because of him."

"That…"

"Sucks", Santana filled in. "Yes. It sucks."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's going to be okay. I swear I'm going to come back after the holidays with his heart in my hands."

"Good."

"Or at least his penis."  
"Santana!"

"Sorry, forgot I was talking to the most virginal non-virgin in the world."

…

"Keep me posted", Santana said.

"I will", Quinn said.

"Even if you decide not to get engaged, I still want to know."

"Okay."

They stood side by side outside their buildings. Santana had a big backpack in front of her and her hands clamped in nerves.

"It will be fine", Quinn said, hoping to sooth.

"It will", Santana agreed.

"Keep me posted too, okay?"

"Of course."

Quinn checked her purse one more time for her bus ticket. It was leaving in less than an hour from the station, she should be going now, if she wanted to get a good seat. But she stayed. She felt as if Santana needed her to.

"Here he comes", Santana said then, under her breath.

Once again, she magically changed. She stood up straighter, smiled widely and cocked her eyebrow. The dark car rolled in in front of them and the driver seat door opened.

"You're late", Santana called out before he had even rounded the car and appeared in sight.

"I'm not", he called back.

He stepped into view and it was him. Puck. How could she not have recognized his car? Or his voice? He was wearing the same leatherjacket as that night. Clearly, he had not been a figment of her imagination. It was the first time she had seen him in bright daylight and he looked distinctly different. More solid. Less scary.

"A few minutes", Santana teased but Quinn couldn't remember in response to what.

Puck had stopped a few feet away from them but was coming closer now. He tried to meet her gaze but she looked away, suddenly shy and blushing.

"Puck, you have to meet Quinn", Santana said. "The only normal person at this school. Well, _almost_ normal."

"Hi", she said.

But didn't extend her hand for him to shake it. That would be too much.

"Hey", he said and smiled.

She should have said that she already knew him, that she had a blanket upstairs that smelled of him, but she didn't. And neither did he. He just smiled and she blushed even more and Santana kept talking about something Quinn wasn't listening to.

"Bye, Quinn", Santana finally said, gave Quinn a quick hug and jumped into the dark car.

Puck lingered a moment longer but said nothing. Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't she?

They drove off and Quinn was left alone on the pavement.

…

She spotted him before she even got off the bus. Tall and broad shoulders, wearing his letterman jacket as if it was still High School. Not holding a sign, thank god. She dropped her bags to meet him and he held her tight and lifted her from the ground. He smelled like home and shampoo and a bit like his dog. She always forgot what he smelled like. He kissed her. Deeply. She closed her eyes and breathed him and thought that this was it. This was home.

"Let's get your bags", he mumbled and let go of her to go and pick up her bags.

She waited for him and when he came back, took his hand and held it tight. His car smelled even more like Rufus, Finn's dog, who was barking happily from the trunk. Quinn let him lick her hands before sitting down in the passenger seat next to Finn. She relaxed her head against the headrest and closed her eyes again.

"How was the bus ride?" he asked.

"Fine. I got some studying done."

"You're not studying this weekend, right?" he asked, almost accusingly.

"No. Promise."

"Good."

He took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back.

"I thought we could go to Breadsticks tomorrow. The reopened after the latest foreclosure. Mom says it's great. They have those mozzarella sticks you love."

"Sure" she replied and wondered if he was going to propose to her there.

It was a popular spot. Quinn's parents had gotten engaged there. Russell had placed the diamond ring inside a glass of champagne. The corniest way to propose ever. Quinn was thankful that Finn wasn't old enough to order alcohol.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" she asked, hoping to get it all out of the way right now.

"Yeah, but I'll save it for later."

"Really? You could just tell me now."

He grinned. Happily. Shit. This was really happening.

"I have to have something to lure you away from your parents later tonight", he said.

"Don't worry", she replied. "I'll be dying to get out of there after the first fight."

They made small talk. Carol was fine. Quinn's grades were still good. No, she couldn't wait for Burt's turkey. Yes, it would be weird to not share a shower with six other people. She thought dinner at Breadsticks. What should she wear? What should she order? _What should she reply?_

"I miss you already", he said as he dropped her off at her house.

"Don't", she whispered. "I'll be over later."

…

 **R U ENGAGED YET?**

Quinn stared at the Santana's but didn't reply. The light from the screen illuminated the entire room around here. She still felt weird about meeting Puck and not saying anything. It had just been a shock. She hadn't expected him of all people to step out of that car. How was she supposed to know that he was Santana's ex-boyfriend? He was the guy that made Santana cry. No one made Santana cry but him. They must really be special to each other, and yet, he dumped her. Quinn didn't know what to think about that. Shit. She should really call Santana in the morning and explain.

"You're blinding me with that light", Finn murmured, sounding annoyed, next to her on this narrow bed.

He was still staying with his mom and Burt. To save money. For college. It was logical and still she hated that she had to sleep in his tiny boyhood room with his mom in the room across the hall. It made her feel young again. She couldn't even go up to pee without waking the entire house.

"Sorry", she whispered and hid the phone under the pillow.

Finn stretched out his arm and wrapped it around her. His arm was steaming with heat and was heavy around her shoulders, as if he was fighting to keep her close. He fell instantly back to sleep while she lay awake and looked around his room. The football trophies. His graduation diploma. Endless pictures of her smiling in her cheerleading outfit, in her prom dress, in his loose shirt. Nothing had changed here since she had last slept here, nervous about going away to school and leaving him behind.

"Finn", she whispered. "Finn, are you going to ask me to marry you tomorrow?"

He was asleep. Dead to world. She moved away from his hot body but the bed was too narrow to allow them both space to lie down without touching. She was trapped with him. No, that sounded wrong. She used to love to sleep next to Finn. It used to make her feel safe and wanted, the months away had evidently ruined her. She picked up her phone again and turned the screen light down. Santana had texted again **CAR RIDE WENT GREAT. DIDN'T ASK HIM A SINGLE QUESTION. PLAYING HARD TO GET.** Quinn sighed and replied. **SOUNDS HEALTHY.** She should be thankful for Finn. He never played any games. He loved her. The end. Period. Why shouldn't they get married? She turned her phone off completely and nuzzled into Finn's hot neck. They were perfect together. Everyone knew. They had been together since freshman year and still loved each other. Yes. She would say yes when he asked. If he asked.

…

"Tell me about your friends", Judy Fabray demanded as Quinn picked at her lunch.

She was nervous about dinner, wishing that he hadn't mentioned anything about, wishing she could have been surprised instead. Five hours until she became someone's fiancé. Would she take his name? Quinn Hudson. Not bad.

"I have told you about Santana", Quinn said.

"Yes, but the others. There must be others."

"Not really."

Judy frowned.

"College is about socializing, honey."

"I thought it was about education."

"Can't it be both?"  
Judy sighed and poured Quinn more water. She insisted that Quinn looked dehydrated and peaky and blamed the cafeteria beverages. Quinn had to swear that she never had soda for lunch. (She never did.) (Santana always did, though.)

"Only having one friend makes you vulnerable, honey", Judy went on. "What if you have a fight?"

"We already have fights. All the time. And we're still friends."

Judy raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow in surprise.

"I'm just saying… You had so many friends in High School, Quinny. Nice girls. Like Brittany. There must be girls like that at school too?"

"I have Tina. My roommate."

"And what is she like?" Judy asked.

"Christian. Quiet. Hates Santana."

"It's so lovely to have a roommate you can really bond with. You know Mary Albertsson, she was my roommate freshman year and we're still as close today."

"Tina and I aren't really friends."

Judy ignored her. She was thinking about Mary Albertsson (a name Quinn had never heard before) and hummed happily to herself. Quinn wondered who Mary had shared a room with when Judy had left school to get married.

…

Finn ordered for her. He had never done that before but Quinn didn't really care. She was too nervous to eat or look at a menu or even breathe. He got her mozzarella sticks that he claimed that she loved. In reality, she hadn't eaten a single one since she leaving middle school and losing all her baby fat. She used to order them and let him sit on the table until he ate them. Should she tell him that now that they were getting married?

"I have something to tell you", he said.

Finally. Her heartbeat picked up again. She couldn't look at him.

"Aren't you curious?" he prodded her when she didn't say anything.

"Yes, I am", she croaked.

"I need a change in my life", he began, "I missed you so much these passing months. I missed you and our life together and being with you."

She inhaled and forgot to exhale. Her head was full of air and butterflies and _was this really it?_

"So, I'm doing it. Because I love you. I quit community college and started to take some extra shifts around town, doing whatever for money. Odd jobs and stuff, you know. To make money so that we can be together. Do you get it?"

She nodded.

"Yes", she said. "I think so."

"I'll work my ass off all year and until summer and then I'll come to school with you. I'll be a year behind you but it'll be worth it. To be together."

He beamed at her. She stared at him. Waiting for more. Waiting for it. And then realizing that it wasn't coming. He wasn't asking her to marry him. He wasn't proposing. She wasn't leaving this freshly-painted but still dumpy restaurant with a ring on her finger. She couldn't tell if she was more annoyed or… relieved?

"What do say?" he asked.

She swallowed.

"Will you earn enough?"

"I'll take out a loan if I don't."

"Will you get in?"

" _Quinn."_

He looked hurt. She wasn't reacting as he had hoped. Why was she reacting like this? Why wasn't she grateful or happy or…

"I'm sorry. I'm just… surprised."

"Don't you like the plan?"

"I… I… Sure, I do. I really do. Just let me think about it."

He waited patiently as she tried to gather her thoughts. The mozzarella sticks were getting cold. The elderly couple in the booth spilled a drink all over the vinyl seating. A waiter rushed over with a cloth. Quinn's heart slowed down to normal pace.

"You should go to a school you want to go to", she said, thinking about Santana's situation. "Don't pick because of me."

"I want to be with you", he said simply.

"Okay", she said. "But what do you want to study? They might not offer it."

"What do you want to study, Quinn?" he retorted. "Last time I checked, your major was still undecided."

She bit her lip and sighed and tried to collect her thoughts again. She was reacting badly.

"You should apply to more schools", she said. "Safety schools."

"Sure, whatever", he mumbled, clearly annoyed that she wasn't as happy as he had pictured her to be.

"I want us to be together too", she offered but sounded false now.

"Good", he said.

"No, I mean it. I missed you too."

"Next year, I'll be there. You and me, together again. It'll be just like High School."

…

"No ring", Santana noted from the doorway to Quinn's room.

"No ring", Quinn confirmed.

She had been one of the first ones back. Tina wasn't coming until later and she had had no idea when Santana would be dropping by. She turned off the TV and got to her feet. They didn't hug now. Just exchanged knowing looks and went down the half-empty cafeteria.

"You said no?" Santana asked.

"He didn't ask."

"He didn't ask?"

"No."

"That must have been anticlimactic."

Quinn smiled and exhaled softly.

"Yeah. But also, kind of a relief."

"Ha!"

"Shut up."

Quinn didn't know how to ask about Puck. Had he told her about the night in the hallway? About them knowing each other? He had had in total eight hours to do so.

"And how was the car ride?"

Santana shrugged coyly.

"Fine, I guess."

"You sounded more excited in your text."

"He dropped me off and didn't contact me until the morning we were leaving."

"Maybe he's playing hard to get too."

"Nah, it's not really his game."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Luca is having a party on Saturday and Puck said that he might come."

"You're bringing him to Luke's party?"

"Yes."

"I bet Luca with love that."

"He said I could invite anyone I wanted."

"He probably meant a hot girl, San."

"Yes, that's why you're coming too."

"Santana-"

"Please."

She didn't ask, didn't beg, didn't demand. She just stated it in one simple word. And Quinn nodded.

"Okay."

"Thanks."

…

It was torture seeing how Santana looked at him when he wasn't looking. Gone were the cocked eyebrow and the attitude. Her face was all softness, love and heartache. Quinn remembered Santana talking about power relations in relationships. Puck clearly had all the power in theirs, even if he might not realize it.

"This is your new boyfriend, huh?" Puck asked Santana, gesturing to the passed out Luca on the couch.

"I don't do boyfriends", Santana replied, putting her game face back on.

"Really?" he asked, amused.

"Not anymore."  
"Fair enough."

Quinn sat in an armchair opposite from them. It was like watching a play. Every move by Santana was carefully calibrated while Puck seemed to be unscripted. She didn't know what to say. What was her place in all of this? A buffer? A spectator? She didn't know but didn't leave. They even looked a bit alike. Both with darker skin and dark hair and both wearing leather jackets. She could picture them together. Domestic. Making out in a High School hallway. His hands all over her body.

"Another beer, girls?", Puck offered, jerking Quinn back to reality.

"Thanks", Santana replied, holding out her hand.

"Okay", Quinn said and took the beer he held out to her.

He winked as her fingers touched his. She looked away.

"Santana said that you're supposed to be engaged", he said. "But I don't see a ring."

"It was a false alarm", Santana interjected. "He probably chickened out."

"Too bad."

"It's fine", she said, feeling embarrassed by what Santana evidently had told her about her naïve suspicions. "We're too young anyway."  
Santana raised her eyebrows.

"Too young? _I_ was the one who told you that."

"Well, it's probably true."  
Puck looked between them. Now, he was the audience and Quinn was part of the play. She didn't like this role any better.

"You would have said if he had asked, right?" Santana prodded.

"I actually don't know."

"Why not?"

"San", Puck interjected. "Let it go. She's not engaged. Let's leave it at that."

They drank beer in silence. Someone began playing the guitar and Puck winced.

"They could at least try to tune it", he muttered.

"Don't be such a snob", Santana retorted. "It's a party."  
"You play?" Quinn asked.

"He does nearly nothing else."

"That's not true", Puck argued. "But yeah, I play."

"I tried to learn the piano when I was a kid but gave it up too soon. All I can play is Für Elise."

"That's not too bad", he offered.

She shrugged.

"Not a party song", she said.

"Thank god", he smiled. "Drunk playing is the worst thing."  
"Puck", Santana groaned. "They're just having fun."  
But he was looking at Quinn now. Santana was the one out. It wasn't fair or nice and Quinn should direct the attention back to Santana, but she was irritated with her and she liked that he was looking at her.

"Try drunk cheerleading", she smiled at him. "My friend Janey broke her arm trying a handstand after a kegger."

"Wow."

"At least music is harmless."

He grinned at her and she smiled back. She thought back to sharing his headphones and listening to endless bands she had never heard before outside her dorm room. Falling asleep on his shoulder. Shit. She had almost forgotten about that. Embarrassed and guilty, she turned back to Santana.

"San, you sing right?" she asked.

"Even if no one asks", Puck responded for her.

"Puck and I used to do duets in High School", Santana replied. "It was the only time the teachers actually liked him."

"No one can deny the power of music", Puck smiled.

At Santana now. Quinn was out again. She checked her phone. Finn had called. She should leave, call him back and leave them alone. But she didn't want to. Not yet.

"Music was your only passing grade, right?" Santana asked teasingly.

"Sure. I graduated with only an A in music."

And Quinn got it. They had it. The banter. The easy chemistry. And a past.

"I'm going to call Finn", she announced, getting up.

They barely noticed her leaving.

…

"You should come back in", Puck said from behind her. "It's cold."

She put her phone back in her purse. Finn had called to hear her voice and for some reason, it drove her crazy. She had seen him less than four days ago. It was Saturday night. Why wasn't he out doing something?

"I will", she said.

"What did the boyfriend say?"  
"That he missed me."

"Sweet."

"Always."  
She smiled at him and he returned it. When she didn't make a move to go back inside, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"I'm quitting", he said before she could. "Don't tell Santana."

"She'll smell it on you."

"Only if she gets really close. I don't have much hair for the smell to stick to."

He lit a cigarette and held it between two fingers. She watched the tiny flame so that she didn't have to watch him.

"You didn't tell her about the night in the hallway", he said, matter of factly.

"I didn't know you were there to see her."

"I mean, you didn't tell her now, that you know I'm me."

"No. But you didn't either."

"It doesn't matter", he said. "Right? It's not a secret, it just doesn't matter."  
"Right."

"It's not ideal…I just… don't want to tell her that I came to see her. I… don't want to encourage her."

She didn't respond. Didn't tell him that it was too late. That Santana cried for him like she cried for no one else. She didn't say that because it would be treason and Quinn was not that kind of friend.

"Quinn, are you okay with not telling her?"

She shrugged.

"Fine."

"Okay…"

He finished the cigarette and stomped it out against the pavement. She watched the light go out.

"It's good that she has you", he said, slowly and carefully.

"You mean, after you broke her heart?"  
"Yes. I mean. Yes, she told you that?"

"Yes."

He smiled faintly. He looked ashamed. A look she hadn't seen on his face before. It made him look young.

"Don't judge me", he begged, half-joking.

"I'm not going to."

"Yes, you are. It's fine. You're her friend. You have the right to judge, I guess."

"You can't help you fall out of love", she said tonelessly.

"No, you really can't. But… I should have handled it better. I know that."

"Tell her that."

"Oh, I bet she knows."

He nudged her elbow with his hand.

"Let's go back in. I think San is done with singing _My heart will go on_ by now."


End file.
